Unforgiven
by ThereIsNoOtherWay
Summary: Morgana Pendragon is in Camelot to kill the king Arthur, but she's counting on Merlin to help her do it. She can only hope that he believes her story... Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the BBC and do not own any of the characters. My use of them is purely for entertainment under the fair use clause of copyright law, I do not receive any profit or material privilege from them.
1. Chapter 1

In the faint lemon light which promises to steal back the night and keep it somewhere, safe, for another day. In that light creeping over the hills, a young woman stumbles over the lush green of Camelot's grasses.

She is almost at the city; this is the last part of her journey, but she needs to hurry, needs to get to where she is going before the day has quite started.

Her black hair lays rank and unwashed over her shoulders, thick and when she runs her fingers through it twigs and leaves dart out and drop to the ground. Her once proud dress is torn and stained, and over her shoulders she's laid a rough green blanket the colour of lichen, to keep out the worst of the chill.

As the woman's bare feet hit the cobbled pathway with a barely audible sound, a tiny white butterfly has the audacity to land on her shoulder. With disdain, the girl lifts her hand and crushes the soft wings between her fingers, ignoring the faint rush of sorrow that such a death provokes in her. She's learnt to be hard; it pays, to be able to kill without remorse.

Despite her desperate appearance, the woman stands up tall as she passes through the open gates of the city. This is her home, after all.

"Halt!" The voice of one of Camelot's guards breaks into her vengeful memories. She turns slowly, sees his eyes widen in fear as realises who she is: the most hunted woman in the kingdom. The evil witch, Morgana Pendragon. He takes a step towards her, but before he can touch Morgana, she lifts a knife and slips it silently in between his unprotected ribs.

 _Camelot really needs to design some more effective armour_ , she thinks as she steps away, watches him crumple to the ground as the light dims in his eyes.

She turns, wrapping her makeshift shawl closer around her, walks across the square and finds her way to the winding stair case leading to physician's chambers.

Morgana Pendragon is here to kill the king, but she's counting on someone to help her do it. She can only hope that he believes her.


	2. Chapter 2

The door to the rooms of the healer opens with a creak like a cannonball and the girl winces, steps inside as quietly as she can, pushing hair out of her eyes and tugging her blanket tighter. The flood of memories prompted by entering this room threatens to overwhelm her: for a moment she wants to sink to her knees, and mourn all that she's lost, and not take another step. She forces back the lump rising in her throat and heads purposefully for the few steps at the far end of the room. She has a job to do.

This door is quieter, and the woman has time to stop in the doorway, taking in the figure stretched underneath cloth on the rough hewn bedstead. His dark hair is tousled and his arms are stretched wide and open. The girl wonders what it's like to sleep like that, unafraid and vulnerable, not curled in on oneself to keep safe from attack. She slept like that once, too, but she can't remember it. She glances behind her to where the elderly physician still snores and shuts the door quickly. She wants to wake the boy before the castle begins its morning, and she doesn't have much time.

"Merlin," she taps his shoulder lightly, barely touching, then harder. "Merlin, wake up." She shakes his shoulder gently, trying to rouse him. For a moment, she thinks he's going to wake, but he merely rolls onto his side murmuring, "Five more minutes, Gaius."

"Mer. Lin. Merlin." She shakes him again, casting an anxious glance to the sun beginning to rise higher in the sky. "Wake up."

He does, then, with a start and a pull away from her, moving so fast her hand withdraws of its own accord, as though burned.

"Morgana?!" he asks in an alarmed tone, standing up on the rickety bed frame and looking around the room, as though for a weapon. "No, you're not real. Gaius said this could happen. You're my imagination." The shock and fear on his face hurts her much more than she would ever allow herself to admit; she barely needs to play pretend in order to bring tears pricking to her eyes.

"I'm real," Morgana whispers, "But I'm not going to hurt you, Merlin."


	3. Chapter 3

"Riiight." He drops onto the ground, still keeping a safe distance from her. "Well, that's comforting, I suppose?" He picks up a letter opener that lies on the windowsill, then does a double take as he looks back at her. "Oh, Morgana, you're crying."

They're enemies, Merlin tries to remind himself, it's a trick, a trap, that's if she's really there at all. But the tears dripping down her face render all his words into nothing. He drops the blade and steps towards her, reaching for her. She takes a step, and stops just short of him, wiping her eyes with the edge of her blanket.

"I came to say I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything I've done." Her voice cracks and wavers as she continues. "I just want to come home, Merlin. Please, I just want to come home."

"You're shaking," Merlin says, taking in her frail appearance. The twigs of her wrists are painful to look at.

"I'm so cold."

"Here, just..." Merlin puts a hand on her shoulder, guides her into the bed still warm from his body. She doesn't resist as he tucks the blankets up around her seated form. He sits on the edge of the bed, clothes rumpled and hair messed, rubbing sleep from the corners of his eyes. "What are you doing here?" he asks her.

"I'm sorry," her tear streaked eyes are so heartbreakingly familiar to him. "I know I've done...wrong. I've done horrible, evil things, but I want to make amends. Pay allegiance to my king. To Arthur."

"Then...why didn't you go to him? Why come to me?" Merlin questions.

She looks straight into his deep blue eyes - a mistake, as she immediately feels dizzy. "If I went to Arthur, he wouldn't listen to me. He'd have me locked up or killed before I could say a word. I came to you because I trust you. Because I thought you'd listen to me."

Merlin looks back to her, realising the truth of her words. She's right that there aren't many in the castle who'd listen to her any more: in fact, he might be the only one.

He needs to decide whether he can trust her, and now. Merlin takes a deep breath and looks down at her. It's ridiculous to trust someone who's tried to kill him and the people he loves multiple times, but he knows that he does trust her, implicitly. A spark of hope lights in his heart - this is what he's wanted for so long. Who is he to deny it now?

"I am listening to you," he says.

It seems to Merlin that Morgana sinks with relief, the visible tension she'd held in her body leaving her in an instant.

"So you'll help me?" she asks.

"Yes, but...it might take time. Arthur won't be keen to listen, not at first. If you gave me some time to work on him -"

Morgana nods, knowing the truth in his words. "Yes, of course. That makes sense. I want him to know...I just want him to know I'm sorry." She gives a faint smile. "I want to see Gwen again. She must make a magnificent queen."

Merlin smiles proudly. "She does."

They are silent. Merlin looks out of the window, realising that he's slept late despite Morgana's waking and he'd better hurry if he wants to get to Arthur on time, so as not to raise suspicion. He stands. Morgana's eyes follow him.

"Can I stay here? Until Arthur agrees to see me?"

Merlin hadn't considered this. "Here-in-this-room here?"

"Well, not if you don't want - it's just, if nobody can know I'm here, I've nowhere else to go."

He gives a nod. "Of course you can. Will you be alright her for today? I'll bring you some water to wash and then I'll have to go. Gaius will be around, it'd be best if you didn't leave the room, probably."

"That's fine." Morgana looks down and Merlin turns to go, hand on the door.

"Merlin?" she asks suddenly.

"Mm?"

Morgana looks awkward, doesn't meet his eyes. "If you didn't have to go, quite yet...I'm so cold, is all. Maybe you could help me get warm?"

Merlin hesitates, unsure what she's asking. "Um. I really do need to go, Morgana."

"Yes, of course you do. I'm sorry."

"Morgana?"

She looks up, meeting his eyes again. Merlin gives the door a push and can't stop a grin from spreading over his face. "It's good to have you back," he says.

She laughs, quietly. "Thank you, Merlin."

Merlin whistles as he leaves Gaius' chambers on his way to serve Arthur's breakfast. He feels happier than he has in a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

Going about his work, Merlin had felt disbelief steal over him. Surely Morgana Pendragon, evil witch who'd tried to kill him, who showed no regard for human life and seemed incapable of love, surely she wasn't in his bedroom, ready to make peace with Arthur? Or if she was, was it part of some wider scheme? Some witchcraft?

Once, between errands, Merlin became so gripped with the fear that he'd return and find Gaius laying dead upon the floor - felled by Morgana's hand - that he'd run back, arriving panting and breathless only to see Gaius' surprised glance as the physician mixed potions in a mortar.

Now, as he takes the stairs to his room with a jump, a cloth-covered plate of food chattering in his hand, he is again gripped by a sudden fear, albeit a different one. What if she's gone, when he opens the door?

But she isn't. She's still there, a hunched figure kneeling on the floor. Her hands are clasped under her chin and her eyes are screwed shut, as though she is praying. He stops for a minute in the faint light from the candle she's lit and placed on the cupboard and looks at her. She's obviously taken advantage of the water he brought her, as her dark hair is damp and shiny, a long plait tied tight with twine, conforming to the curves of her neck. The dress, too soiled and mould scented to wear further, has been discarded in a corner of the room. Instead, she's taken some of Merlin's clothes from his drawers - a pair of brown trousers rolled up at the ankles; a faded red shirt, the long sleeves of which fall over her clasped hands and are clutched in her gripping fingertips.

She seems suddenly to become aware of his presence, and scrambles to her feet, almost tripping over the long trousers.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"Six," says Merlin.

"What?" she leans gently against the windowsill as though counting on it to keep her upright and looks at him confusedly.

"That's how many times you've apologised to me since this morning," he explains, "I've been counting. You can stop now. Were you praying?"

She shrugs, reaching for the plate in his hands and lifting up the cloth. "Yes, I suppose I do that a lot now."

He frowns - he's never remembered her as particularly religious. "What were you praying for?" he asks her cautiously. Morgana looks down at the food, pulling hungrily at a shred of coarse barley bread and pushing it down her throat. Merlin feels a pang of guilt at his thoughtlessness; of course she's hungry. He should have brought her food much earlier.

"Forgiveness," says Morgana simply.

Merlin looks down. He's thought about this all day, what she's done and what he wants to happen now. And he thinks he knows what to say next. "If it helps," he replies uncertainly, looking up at her from his seated position on the bed, "If it helps, I forgive you."

She stops her starved swallowing and looks back at him, disbelief turning to joy in her eyes. The praying, that's not real - she's never prayed for forgiveness in her life. But the joy - that is. She never realised how much she wanted Merlin to forgive her. "It does. It does help."

Merlin smiles awkwardly, unsure what to do with the candle lit emotion in her bright green eyes. He stretches self consciously and asks the question that's been in his mind all day. "So what happened, Morgana? You didn't just suddenly decide to do this."

Plate empty, Morgana lifts a slim chicken bone and fiddles with it, drawing the sharp end harshly across the palm of her hand. Nodding, she begins on the story she's memorised, trying to make it as convincing as possible. "No. I was with Morgause, for a long time. Then she...there was this village. She claimed its elder had disobeyed her. She wanted to raze it to the ground, this whole village, mothers and babies and children. I told her no."

"You've never had any problems with children dying before," Merlin can't help pointing out.

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm developing a conscience."

Merlin smiles slightly. "About time."

Her lips quirk in a laugh. "Yes. Anyway, she said if I wouldn't be a good girl and do as I was told I'd have to go. So I went."

"How long ago was that?" Merlin asks her.

Morgana lifts her face, features blurred by shadow. "A few months. I lived on my own for a while, sleeping wherever I could and scavenging for food. It took me a long time, but eventually I realised that what I needed to do was come back here. Come home, apologise. I...I don't want to be hunted my whole life Merlin. And I'm not the person I was, I'm not as heartless as she was."

"That was really brave of you," Merlin tells her honestly.

Her smile shows she doesn't really believe his words. "Thanks."

"What are we going to do now? About Arthur?" Merlin changes the topic, sensing that she doesn't want to think anymore about the times that have brought her here.

"Oh, I was thinking about that. If you could get me some paper and a pen I could write a letter. You could say I sent it to you, perhaps he'll agree to an audience after he's read my apology." And as soon as I have that audience, thinks Morgana, I will kill the king.

"That makes sense. I'll get you the things tomorrow." Merlin looks at her, the iron resolve under the pale skin. "You should sleep now," he adds gently. "Gaius'll be back from his rounds soon, we don't want him to hear us."

"No, of course not. If you'll lend me a blanket, I'll sleep down here," she gestures vaguely to the floor. Merlin looks shocked.

"I wasn't suggesting you sleep on the floor, Morgana," he says. "You take the bed, I'll sleep down here."

"But -"

"It's fine."

Morgana hesitates, but eventually nods gratefully and climbs under the covers still dressed, handing him several of the blankets which litter the top of the bed. Merlin nods his thanks, blowing out the candle and pulling the covers around himself around himself on the wooden floorboards. It's uncomfortable, and he doubts whether he'll sleep at all. He wriggles, trying to find a position that hurts his bones less.

"Merlin?" Morgana's voice comes out of the darkness. She tries to tell herself that she must stick, absolutely, to the plan, and that this suggestion isn't part of it. But she can't stop herself. She's been just as starved of touch as she has been of food.

"Yes?"

"Get into the bed, Merlin. You won't sleep at all there."

"Morgana, I told you, I'm not letting you sleep on the floor -"

"That wasn't really what I was suggesting."

"Oh," Merlin hesitates. The bed is fairly large, perhaps it would be alright, for a single night...After a moment he shakes off his discomfort and stands up, pulling aside the cover and fitting himself as close to the edge of the bedstead as possible. She's so close to him. Merlin's glad of the thick woollen blankets that hide the involuntary excitement of his body. The only sound in the quiet dark is their ragged breathing, the brush of Morgana's hand along the rough pillow. She stops with her fingertips millimetres from his face. "Sleep well," she whispers, closing her eyes.

But he doesn't sleep. He watches her instead, the translucent film of her eyelids blinking him some coded message from deep within her dreams.


	5. Chapter 5

"You have magic!" Morgana's eyes flash fire from where she stands opposite the bedroom door, the damning magic book clutched in her hand. "You have magic and you didn't tell me." Okay, so it didn't really impact upon her plan. But still, the sudden pain of finding the book demanded some punishment of the boy who'd hidden it from her.

Merlin pulls the door shut hurriedly and crosses his arms across his chest. "Ssh, Gaius is around. I do, I have magic, but -"

Morgana flings the book onto the bed. "Oh, and you just thought, what, I wouldn't care? It wouldn't matter to me?"

Merlin shrugs, dropping his arms and taking a step towards her. "There just wasn't ever a right time."

Morgana steps backwards, away from him, shaking her head slowly. "I thought I was all alone. I thought I was...I thought that there wasn't anyone who was like me and how could you leave me there? How could you leave me there?"

Merlin reaches for her, heart aching for the betrayal on her face. "I'm sorry."

She pulls away. "Don't you touch me. I thought I was a monster. And all this time, you had magic too and you never told me. So don't. You. Touch. Me."

Merlin lifts his arms in surrender, backs away. The room swells with silence, shutters pulled close around their voices. Gagging them with the enormity of the broken secret. This time, the code in her eyes is easy to break: how could you? Is what it means. How could you?

"I'm sorry," he says again.

Morgana sits heavily on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched tensely. She brings her hand to her face, scraping her hair back in a gesture of resignation.

"Right," she says.

Merlin steps cautiously towards the window. When she doesn't pull backwards, he walks past her and lifts the heavy piece of parchment, covered in a thick black crawl, which was Morgana's work that day.

"This is the letter for Arthur?" he asks timidly.

She shakes her head, indicating that she's not ready to drop the subject of magic. He's not nearly off the hook. Lifting her chin in challenge, she demands, "Forget Arthur. Show me."

Merlin can't pretend he doesn't know what she's talking about. He matches her glance for a moment, then sighs. Lifting his hands, he murmurs " _Apyffan fleoge_." When he opens his clasped fingers, three tiny, bright blue butterflies flutter around. They circle once around Morgana's dark head, then leave as quietly as they appeared, out the stone flanked window.

"Oh," breathes Morgana in wonder, all anger momentarily forgotten in her childish amazement at the purity and control of the magic. She wants that. She wants it so much. She would give up the kingdom to be that good, she would. Morgana doesn't want to kill things anymore. She wants to create them.

Maybe that's the moment when she should have realised that she was falling in love. That her plan risked coming to pieces because she was trying to feel whole.

"Teach me," she whispers, looking up at Merlin with bright eyes full of hunger.

He steps towards her, gently closing his palms around the scarred backs of her hands. He shuts them, kneeling in front of her in the fast-darkening room. "Just say what I said," he tells her.

" _Apyffan fleoge_ ," says Morgana. As their hands fall apart, a single white moth flies out from between them, furry and perfect. With a faint buzz of its wings, it settles on her shoulder, then disappears into the night. She looks at him, both their eyes shining with the clean goodness of the magic that she has created. Morgana never thought she could make something that pure; Merlin never hoped to see her do it. Their hands are still and entwined.

That's when she kisses him.


	6. Chapter 6

"Did Arthur read the letter?" Morgana asks, looking up sharply from Merlin's Magic book as he pushes open the door to his bedroom.

Merlin shakes his head, moving in urgent haste to the bed and grasping Morgana's wrists, pulling her so she stands up.

"Someone saw you," he says, "the guard at the gates thinks he saw you come in, he thinks you killed the night guard. Rubbish, but still, Arthur's put out a warning to the city." Merlin flings the book down, pushing it under the bed, and spins Morgana towards the doorway. "If you're found, you're to be killed on sight."

Morgana lifts a hand to her throat, then shakes her head. "Then why not give him the letter now? Explain that must be why I came to Camelot."

Merlin says, turning away from her to pull a coarse grey blanket from the bed, "He wouldn't listen to me. He's just said you're to be killed, he'll think I've fabricated it to protect you."

"Why would he think that? Merlin, of course he'll listen to you!"

"You don't understand. I've spent the last years trying to convince him that we need to find you. That we could save you." Merlin hadn't ever intended to tell her this, but there's no way around it now. "Morgana, I've become known as the hopeless idealist who still believes in you. We need to wait until the immediate danger is passes or he won't believe me."

Morgana is touched by Merlin's faith over the years, but the adrenaline and fear of being chased is making her too afraid to respond clearly. "So I'm to be the hunted evil again."

"No," Merlin grins at her, draping the woollen cloth over her head and pulling it forward so it hides her face. "You'll be my aged grandfather."

"This day just gets better and better."

"I know somewhere I can hide you, there's tunnels under the castle. But I need to get you there without anyone seeing you. You're already in men's clothes, with this over your face, as long as you walk very slowly and hold onto me, nobody will think I'm doing anything but safely escorting one of Camelot's elderly citizens home," Merlin explains.

He opens the door and takes her arm down the steps. "Whatever you do, Morgana," he warns her seriously, "Don't run."


	7. Chapter 7

As they walk through the square, Morgana leaning heavily on Merlin's arm and limping as heavily as she convincingly can, she feels terror grip her hard. You're a powerful sorceress, Morgana tries to tell herself, and to be fair Arthur's not entirely wrong about you. So calm down. But she can't. Her heart is beating so much it feels like a bird trapped inside her, throwing itself against the walls in its urgent haste to get out. It doesn't help that the blanket covers her face so much that she can't really see anything. Her hands are shaking so much perhaps she actually does look like a very elderly citizen.

Morgana almost screams as someone calls to Merlin, "You, boy!"

Merlin pivots slowly. The world stops turning.

"I need someone to help me round up my chickens and get them back in the barrow, you'll help me won't you?" continues the voice of an older woman. Morgana breathes again, but Merlin doesn't - he's spotted Arthur with Camelot's guards entering a house at the far side of the square. He tugs gently at Morgana's arm, saying to the woman, "I'll just escort Grandfather home and then I'll come back and help you, okay?"

"They're here," he whispers to Morgana through clenched teeth, "Don't run. Walk slowly and don't turn around."

The bird in Morgana's chest resumes its fierce self battering. They walk slowly, Morgana jumping each time she hears Arthur's clear voice carry across the square.

It seems to take an eternity before Merlin murmurs, "In here." The air becomes immediately cooler, and Morgana pushes away her head covering to see that they're in the maze of tunnels which stretch under the castle.  
Merlin guides her down a complicated mess of passageways before turning into a small circular chamber. There are four candles in the room, which Merlin doesn't light, and a scrap of red fabric (a dress?) lying in one corner. Morgana feels a surge of jealousy despite the fear. "So, how many other girls have you brought down here before me?" she asks as lightly as she can.

Merlin is kneeling on the ground, tucking the fabric into his belt. "She died," he says simply, without turning around.

Before Morgana has time to respond to this, a metallic sound followed by a man's voice startles them both. Morgana gives a gasped half scream, looking at Merlin with pleading, desperate eyes. Merlin stands up slowly, appearing as scared as she does. He pulls her back against the wall, holds a finger to his lips. Morgana tries to breathe. If they catch her, they will kill her. She doesn't want to die. The voices come closer, surely they're only just around the corner now.

"Be careful if you find her, she's got powerful magic. Kill her immediately, don't show any mercy or you'll be the dead one," Arthur's voice is clear and loud so close to them now.

Morgana can't help the scream that escapes her lips, and Merlin clasps a hand tight over her mouth. Her eyes, wide and terrified above his fingers. Her body, thin as a shadow but too solid to become one.

"Has anyone looked in here?" asks Arthur.

Merlin gives Morgana desperate look and then lets go of her, ignoring her pleading arms as he walks towards the king. "Arthur!" Merlin shouts.


	8. Chapter 8

"Merlin? What in god's name are you doing down here?" Morgana hears Arthur ask.

"Looking for you," says Merlin. "I completely forgot but the other night when I was picking herbs for Gaius I think I saw Morgana. In the empty houses past the well. I just completely forgot."

There's a short silence. Then, "Merlin, you idiot, how do you completely forget seeing the evil witch the whole Kingdom is looking for?"

"I don't know. I had other things on my mind!" Morgana can hear the relief in Merlin's voice at being believed.

"The empty houses past the well are in completely the opposite direction. Men! We're not wasting any more time here. My idiot servant thinks he saw someone..."

Morgana listens as the footsteps and chatter fade out of hearing. When she is finally safe, her legs give way and she sinks to the dirt covered floor, head in shaking hands.

She's still there when Merlin returns, several hours later, although by now she's lifted her head and is looking emptily into the darkness of the chamber, thinking. She scrambles to her feet as he comes in, hands out in front of her for protection, then relaxes slightly as she sees his face.

"Just me," he smiles at her. "Sorry I was so long, Arthur co-opted me into helping with the search. And then I had to round up those women's chickens."

Morgana shakes her head. They stand for a moment, just looking. Holding themselves as still as they can so that they don't break the fragility of the moment.

"Here," says Merlin finally. " _Forbearnan_." The candles in each corner of the room spring to life with a faint whoosh. The shallow light flickers, accentuating Morgana's hollow cheeks and the deep worry lines in Merlin's brow.

Morgana steps towards him. "I've been practicing," she says softly. Clasping her hands tightly she whispers, " _Apyffan fleoge_." As her hands fall apart, five perfect white moths appear, soft and furred and pure, seeming almost to emit their own light. They fly towards Merlin, landing on his shoulders. Morgana claps her hands gently, and they disappear.

Merlin looks at her with amazement in his bright blue eyes. He wants to say something about how magical it is, how proud he is of her for coming here and making this kind of magic. After a moment, though, he says hoarsely, "You're beautiful, Morgana." She thinks she can hear a depth of meaning in the three simple words.

He kisses her, again, lips gentle and careful. When he undresses her, pulling the shirt the colour of old blood over her head, he does it softly. The way you would touch someone who's bruised all over their body.

Making him love her, that was always part of Morgana's plan, but falling in love with him, that never was. She doesn't want to end this. She doesn't want any more people to die. Morgana Pendragon is here to kill the king, but she isn't sure if she wants to anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

"You believe her, don't you?"

"You know I do."

King Arthur stands at the window of his chamber, holding in his hands a letter from the girl he'd once called sister. His servant, Merlin, stands in front of him, hands behind back and eyes pleading quietly. Arthur sighs and runs a hand through his golden blond hair.

"Of course you do. Look, Merlin, just because she says she's sorry doesn't mean she actually is."

Merlin bites his lip, unsure what to say to convince Arthur that Morgana's genuine, without letting slip that she's been living in his bedroom for the past three days. "Why don't you just give her one more chance? Surely that can't hurt," he says, trying to sound matter of fact but unable to keep a faint begging note out of his voice.

"We've given Morgana plenty of chances!" Arthur begins to pace.

"One more, then."

Arthur stops and looks at Merlin, recognising that he's not going to give up. "Fine. Leave a note in the empty houses that saying I'll see her. She can have one last chance."

"Yes! Thank you, Arthur. You won't regret this," says Merlin.

"I hope your trust in her isn't misplaced," says Arthur seriously. "And Merlin - I want to see her alone."

Merlin is surprised, and even though he trusts Morgana, he's cautious. It's certainly not protocol for the king to see someone with nobody else there. "Why?" he asks.

Arthur shakes his head. "Morgana's a good actor. I don't want her to have an audience. Besides, if something were to happen I'm sure I could deal with her alone."

"Hm." Merlin pretends to look doubtful.

"I'd have to. I'd need to live so I could kill you afterwards, seeing as this whole thing was your idea."

"Thanks, Arthur."

"You're welcome."

Merlin and Morgana had decided that it was safer for her to stay in the tunnels for the time being than to risk being caught leaving them, and tonight Merlin doesn't go to her until well after dark, not wanting to do anything suspicious that might jeopardise tomorrow's audience. As he slips through the square he feels cautiously hopeful: perhaps by tomorrow, all the secrecy could be over. Merlin lets himself drop into a daydream in which Morgana is reinstated as a lady of Camelot. In which she and Merlin could, possibly, be together.

She is standing when he reaches her, nervously twisting her hands together. She gives him a half-hearted smile as he comes in. "What did Arthur say?" she asks quickly.

A grin spreads over Merlin's face. "He says you're to see him, tomorrow and alone. I'll take you to him mid-morning."

"You did it for me," Morgana says with an odd note in her voice.

"You wrote the letter," points out Merlin, taking her hand.

Morgana tries to smile, but she can't. She wants to kiss Merlin again, wants him to touch her again, undress her, stay here in this dirt strewn cave all night long, but she feels tainted and ill. He trusts her so completely, he loves her even, and tomorrow morning she's going to crush all of that trust into dust. Morgana feels sick. She doesn't want to kill the king anymore; she just wants to be with Merlin.

She looks up at him, trying to say something that makes sense, trying to make him understand that she's sorry. "Morgause did love me, you know," is what she says.

Merlin squeezes her hand, looking faintly surprised by the choice of topic. "Morgause used you," he rebuts.

"Isn't it the same thing?" she asks him. He gives her a look that makes her ache all over. A sorrowful look. A pained look. He kisses her lips, but she doesn't react. She pulls her hand out of his.

"Big day tomorrow. You should get some rest," she says.

"Okay." She tries not to see the brief look of hurt disappointment that flashes in his eyes. He tries not to let her.

After he's gone, Morgana stands still in the centre of the room. If she moves, she thinks she might fall over, fall down. If she so much as twitches a muscle she'll start aching, a bone deep fearsome ache that will never stop, of this she is momentarily convinced. She looks at her long sleeved shirt and breathes in Merlin's scent, like flame and soap and grass and mud all balled up close together, woven into the warp of the fabric. She wonders, briefly, what it would feel like to wrap the sleeves close around her neck and pull until she stops breathing, but she pushes the thought away. Sometimes, thinks Morgana, sometimes we don't get to choose what we do. Sometimes we have no choice.

For the first sincere time in her life, Morgana drops to her knees and prays in the dark to be forgiven.


	10. Chapter 10

The hallway in front of the throne room is long and filled with a golden light, the kind you only see in the middle of the morning on a very clear day when there's not very long until summer begins. Merlin looks anxious but hopeful as he lends Morgana his arm down the hall, all the way to the large double doors that will soon be opened for her. Merlin's found Morgana a skirt and has sewn the sleeves of one of his own shirts until they fit better, so that she looks presentable if not exactly royal. Her long hair is loose, waved about her pale, frightened face.

"It will be okay," Merlin promises her, giving Morgana a smile and a gentle nudge.

Morgana takes a deep breath. "Yes," she says, returning his smile and taking a step towards the doors. He lets go of her, but right before she enters the room Morgana turns back to him. "Merlin," she says quickly, urgently. As though it's her very last chance to say it, thinks Merlin.

"Merlin, everything I said to you, about being sorry for what I'd done. Everything I said, I meant it. Whatever happens now, remember that I meant all of it. Even if...even if I say something different, it was true, what I said to you. Remember? Please?" she begs.

Merlin looks at her. It hadn't occurred to him to doubt her sincerity, but the earnestness of her face and the desperation in her voice makes him realise that the words are important to her.

He nods. "Of course. Of course I'll remember."

She gives an uncertain nod. "Thank you," she whispers. And then Morgana Pendragon walks into the throne room to meet with the king.

Afterwards, people wondered how it happened. Whether she'd done it as soon as she stepped inside, or if she'd embraced him first. If she'd done it as his back was turned. They wondered what she said before, if she said anything at all.

But all anyone will ever know for certain is that when, after an anxious two hours of pacing the hallway and waiting for some sound from the silent chamber, Merlin finally pushes open the doors to the throne room, he finds the king lying on the floor. A long shadow stretches away from the body, like a ghost still lingering. Or like death, come to find, after all these years, Uther's son. Because the golden haired man's glassy eyed visage tells Merlin that Arthur is, undeniably, dead. Merlin looks in shock to the regal woman who has arranged herself on the throne, waiting for him.

From the shadows behind the balustrade there emerges, as though summoned, a small army of men, eyes straight ahead and dressed in long black tunics. They look surreal, like a fairy tale army, but the swords by their sides are real enough. Heading them, standing by the throne, hand on the dark haired woman's shoulder, stands a tall witch. Her blond hair sparkles like dew damp spiderweb, and her bright red lips are twisted into a malicious smile.

"He's finally here. It took him long enough to realise something was wrong," remarks Morgause.

Morgana doesn't look at her. Although still pale, her face is resolute. Her bright green eyes drill into Merlin's blue ones and lock him down as she proclaims, desperate and angry and pleading and resigned and violent all at once, "The King is dead. Long live the Queen."

Morgana Pendragon has killed the king. She's pretending to have already forgotten the love she held in her heart only a few hours ago. She's learnt to be hard. It pays, to kill without remorse.

Merlin steps towards her, a sob cracking his body in half as he looks again from his dead friend on the ground to the woman on the throne. "Arthur - no-" he manages brokenly. "No!" He lifts his hands, cast golden and majestic in the light from the high windows, preparing to aim a spell at Morgana. But she's too fast for him.

" _Apyffan fleoge_!" cries the Queen and from between her fingers fly hundreds of white speckled moths, furry and quick. Their loud buzzing fills Merlin's ears as they hover about him, then land on him, blinding his face with their wings, filling his head with noise. He can't see. Merlin drops to his knees under the force of the hundreds of small, winged creatures which once were so perfect and now seem so dangerous.

If he'd looked up, just then, before he lost consciousness from some new magic of the queen's, he might have seen the tears standing in Morgana's eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

When Merlin opens his eyes, he thinks for a moment that he's gone blind. It takes several minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, a faint speck high above him all that seems to be visible of the world. Once he can see, Merlin recognises where he is - it's the cave below the dungeons, the one where Uther Pendragon had imprisoned Kilgarrah for so many long years. Merlin feels a pang as he remembers that this is the place where he'd first learned of his destiny to protect Arthur; one he has, now, failed in so miserably.

He's still too much in shock to be able to process his friend's death, or Morgana's betrayal. But the pain in his mind compensates for his inability to think.

The pain in his arms, too - they're trapped behind his back, harsh metal cutting deep into the skin of his wrists, not allowing him an escape. If he moves, he can hear the rattle of a chain, most likely bolted to the wall behind him. The small, rocky outcrop lies directly opposite to the place where he's stood so many times before, seeking advice from the dragon's wisdom. If his chain had been long enough, he could have stepped across.

A sudden light flashes above him, a flaming torch. He sees, with shock and horror, Morgana's face before him. Closer than he thought she'd have been able to get in the blinding flash of her torch, she's standing only a foot away. She steps closer, allowing the torch to linger close to his face. Merlin can feel the harsh burn of the flame, sweat instantly bubbling on his brow.

"Hello, Merlin," Morgana says. Merlin's heart sinks further as he sees the familiar, evil smirk on her face.

"What have you done?" he asks her.

"I killed the king," she states simply. "That was my plan all along. You were foolish to believe me," she adds harshly.

Merlin has no answer. She places a hand on his cheek, the caress at odds with the heat of the torch which she hasn't moved. Dropping the flaming thing onto the stone floor, she stands in front of him, fitting her body to the curve of his. "You were so very foolish," she whispers, and Merlin thinks that he should be more sickened than he is when her lips meet his. When her fingers creep to his groin. After a long moment, she pulls away.

"Is that why I'm here? To be some sort of sex slave?" If Merlin had had the energy, he would have spat the words at her. As it is, he is too tired to do more than state them, monotonous and shaming.

"Mm. Sounds fun," says Morgana, smirking again. "But you're not a slave, Merlin. You have much less freedom than that. No. You're my dragon."

"What?" Merlin asks, dully. He can't tell if it she's deliberately being vague to torture him, or if his hurting mind just won't let him understand.

"Everybody loves the person who protects them," Morgana elaborates patiently. "My father chained a dragon to make the people love him, but I...I will chain you. Why wouldn't the people of Camelot love the queen who protects them from such an evil sorcerer? Who eliminated such a cruel king?"

"Arthur wasn't cruel. And I'm not evil." says Merlin.

"And do you think that anybody will believe that, after I tell them all about how you tried to poison me?" she asks sweetly.

Then her voice hardens again. "The people will fear me because I have the power to unleash you, because I was strong enough to trap you. And together we'll pretend that the one they really fear is you. People are primed to fear, Merlin. They just need somebody to tell them what to be afraid of. They will fear you because I tell them to, and fear will draw them together, and fear will draw them to me. And I will be a good queen. You needn't be afraid for Camelot. Perhaps in twenty years the whole Kingdom will celebrate the day I captured the evil sorcerer and chained him in my dungeons." The sorrow in her next, single word is barely audible. But it's there. "Merlin," she says.

A sudden thought strikes Merlin. "Gwen?" he asks. "Gaius? What have you done with them?"

"They're locked in a cell, awaiting execution."

"No!" Merlin doesn't think he can bear any more death. "Please, please, I'll do anything you want. I'll do everything you want me to, just please, please, Morgana, let them go."

He would have liked to see the brief humanity on her features as she answers him, but the high shadows cast by the flickering torch won't let him. "Fine," she says after a long, tense pause. "I'll see to it that they're let go. Let's see if they can run fast enough to get away before I change my mind. That will be fun to watch."

She turns and steps back over the short emptiness between ledge and ledge, carrying the light away from him. She says, before she disappears, "You'll live here, Merlin. You'll breathe this air and you'll do what I tell you. And you will die here, waiting for a morning that will never come. I want my face, to be the only face you ever see," And Morgana Pendragon is gone.

In the silence of the echoing cave, Merlin feels a deep pain overwhelm his entire body. He aches for his friend, for Arthur, lying dead in God knows what unmarked grave. He'd been supposed to protect him; how completely he has failed. For Gwen and for Gaius, forced now to run for their lives form the only home that they had ever known, leaving behind the boy who'd become the old man's son. For Morgana, the girl he'd loved who, in the space of a few hours, has become unrecognisable. And for himself, locked down here like something ancient and monstrous. A man now destined to become a story told to naughty children to force them to behave. In the darkness, Merlin falls to his knees, allowing the sharp stone to pierce his bones. He weeps.


End file.
